


Would He Go Down on Down You in a Theatre?

by crybabycry



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Dom!Paul, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Jealous!Paul, M/M, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Rough Oral Sex, Sub!John, bottom!John, top!paul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23101225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crybabycry/pseuds/crybabycry
Summary: I get the image of Paul catching John sucking someone's dick, you guys get a ficlet.Title cribbed from the incomparable Alanis Morissette's magnum opus because I couldn't think of a good one
Relationships: John Lennon/Original Male Character(s), John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 9
Kudos: 81





	Would He Go Down on Down You in a Theatre?

**Author's Note:**

> John and Paul are both drunk in this, but still, definitely dubious consent. You've been warned.

In the dingy room no one dared refer to as their “bedroom” but only as their “quarters,” Paul couldn’t understand what he was seeing at first. He thought it was maybe John, sitting upright in his bunk, his hand on the back of a short-haired girl’s head, shoving it down rudely towards his lap. However, John’s hair was never this dark, and he didn’t have a beard earlier that night… Paul’s stomach dropped as he realized the short-haired girl kneeling on the sticky floor was his best friend, his thin, pink lips stretched wide over the stranger’s cock, struggling to take more into his mouth.

They didn’t hear him enter, the strains of the film playing in the theatre behind them masking his sound, as well as muffling most of theirs. “ _Ja_ ,” the infiltrator grunted, “take it, take it, _mein schazie_.” John attempted to look up, but the man shoved his head back down again, ignoring the way John gagged and struggled.

Like the drunken idiot he was, Paul blurted out, “What the fuck?” The two men ripped apart from each other, John tucking his erect penis back into his jeans-- Paul hadn’t even noticed it was out before, but now it pulsated at him like a beacon. 

“Get the fuck out of here, Paul,” John growled, but it lacked any of his usual bite. He was compromised, and he knew this. He stayed where he was on the ground as if he was afraid to come closer.

The bastard on the bed didn’t seem to comprehend or care. “Hey!” he shouted, not bothering to cover his impressive-enough erection. “We are in middle of business, yes? You can have turn next, pretty boy.” He made a kissy face at Paul, and the young man saw red.

“Get the fuck out of here!” he bellowed, lunging at the man. “ _Aussteigen_! Out!” His drunken punches and kicks were ineffective, but the motherfucker finally got the hint and made himself scarce, his arse hanging out of his trousers as he ran out the door.

Paul slammed the door shut behind him, and let his gaze fall on John. He was standing, but couldn’t meet Paul’s stare. “It’s not what it looks like,” he started before Paul cut him off.

“What the fuck else could it have possibly been, John?” Paul demanded. “Are you a whore now? Is this how you’re paying for the pills? Suck a few dicks for a few deutschmarks?”

“Fuck you,” John spat but his venom was saturated in fear. Paul moved closer, and John stumbled as he took a step back.

“Fuck me?” Paul let out a nasty laugh. “How ‘bout fuck _you_? Huh?” He gave John’s shoulder a hard push and he fell to the ground. He knew for certain now that John was nearly as drunk as he was himself, and it almost felt like permission. “Do you do that too? Let them bend you over and fuck you like a bird?”

John lashed out at that, attempting to knock Paul off his feet. “I don’t fucking do that!” he howled. “I’ve never done it, not once--!”

“You may not have done it, but you want to,” Paul said, barely audible over the film’s enthusiastic score. “What’s stopping you, love? Are you thinking about what people would say? You know already know what they would say though, you’re a fucking queer, that’s what. I saw how excited you got when he wasn’t even touching you. That’s-- that’s disgusting, you know that?” Disgust was what he felt brewing in his gut as his body screamed for those bruised, wet lips around him.

John flinched as if he’d been struck. “I-- I know,” he whispered. His face was the model of shame and humiliation, emotions Paul didn’t think possible to assign to his older friend. The beer and rum in his system transformed his disgust into fury-- this was a side of John he never knew existed, was never trusted enough to see it, but a fucking stranger could?! 

“Get on your knees,” he growled. John looked up, visibly unsure if he was joking, but Paul shoved him to the ground. His cock jumped as John moaned out when he hit the ground; out of pain or out of arousal, he couldn’t say. “Beg me not to tell, Johnny. Beg me not to tell the others what you are.”

“Please, Macca, please don’t tell,” John bleated, tears falling from his panicky brown eyes. “I don’t want everyone to know that I-- that I--”

“Say it,” Paul ordered, his cock pressing painfully against the zip of his leather pants. “Say out loud what I caught you doing.”

“Sucking cock,” John whispered, his face bright red. “I was sucking his cock.”

Paul had to bite his lip to keep from moaning. There was no way to restrain himself from what he was about to do though. His left hand fumbling with his belt, his right grabbed John’s hair. “I won’t tell if you do what I say,” he grunted, struggling to free his aching erection from his trousers in front of John’s widening eyes. “Show me what you do, Johnny. Show me why this is worth debasing yourself like a street whore.”

John moaned at the words but submitted, his lips wrapping around the head of Paul’s cock and sucking tentatively. Paul felt his eyes roll back into his skull at the sensation and resisted the urge to slam John’s head forward like the brute here earlier. 

“Christ on a cross,” Paul let himself gasp as John slowly took him deeper and deeper into his mouth. His mouth was sloppy and inexperienced, not at all like the professional experience Paul had received from several of Hamburg’s finest ladies of the evening he had called John, but an earnest ardency that curled his toes like none of them had been able to. 

John looked up at him from his position, eyes wide and hopeful as he bobbed his head up and down, and Paul couldn’t help but go a further. “Absolutely shameless,” he panted, threading his fingers through John’s hair roughly. “Not even girls like sucking cock, John, that’s why you have to pay them to do it. You though, you do it for free.”

John moaned around his cock, and Paul joined him in harmony, their noises joining the chorus of the film screening for a mostly empty theatre, completely unaware of what was happening mere hundreds of feet away. “Come on, baby, show me,” Paul chanted, over and over, until what he was saying didn’t make sense anymore and he exploded into John’s mouth, no warning before his climax, letting John cough and sputter as his spunk slid down his throat.

Paul collapsed onto the bed, his head spinning. The alcohol had won the war, and he was quickly going down. John stared at him from the floor, pathetic and pink-faced, his lips shiny with spit and bruised from abuse. “I won’t tell,” Paul murmured, laying his head on a pillow without breaking eye-contact with John. “I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

John gave him a shy but knowing smile. “You don’t have to, Paul,” he said, picking himself up from the floor. “Now that you know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any German mishandlings, I was using Google Translate


End file.
